Dragonhealer
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: Aurilla is both dragonrider and junior healer, assisting her father in healing the great dragons, along with the help of her green dragon Amrianth. Then a friend's dragon dies and the rider wishes to also. Can Aurilla save him?
1. Chapter 1

**Dragonhealer**

Dragonriders of Pern belongs to Anne McCaffrey, I'm only borrowing her wonderful world and dragons to play with. I make no money off this.

This story was intended for a friend's birthday present. It's the first one I've written so be kind when reviewing.

Aurilla of Sun's Edge Weyr, rider of green Amrianth, awoke in the predawn hours, shivering. She had kicked off her sleeping furs and woolen blankets sometime during the night and her feet were freezing. Teeth chattering, she tucked her frozen toes beneath her long nightdress and tugged the covers back over herself, yawning. She could tell it was still night, her quarters faced the rising sun and in the vast cave beyond, where her beloved green dragon slept, it was still dark. A small glow hung in a basket over her bed, she always kept one lit in case she had to get up in the middle of the night for an emergency with one of the dragons or another animal.

Though only fifteen Turns old, Aurilla was the Junior Dragonhealer in Sun's Edge Weyr, a great responsibility for one so young. But it was her calling, as it was for her father, R'lan, brown Draketh's rider. From the time she could walk, Aurilla had been fascinated with the great dragons and also with helping any animal in need. She used to tag after her father when he made rounds in the weyr, tending to those dragons who had been wounded fighting Thread. Threadscore was very painful and left ragged puckered scars in both rider and dragon's hide if not treated properly. Aurilla's father was a master at fixing Threadscore, able to sew the ragged flesh together so that it left very faint scars and sometimes, if one was very lucky, no scar at all. He was also adept at treating dragons for other injuries, like strained tendons and torn muscles, which occurred with distressing regularity during Threadfall, as the dragons performed amazing aerial acrobatics to avoid the falling Thread. R'lan was highly regarded by all the dragonriders in the weyr, especially the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman, P'rell and Simona, who were the community's rulers.

Thus it came as no real surprise that one of R'lan's offspring would demonstrate his facility in healing. Indeed, it was a great relief to all the weyrfolk that Aurilla had inherited his talent, since R'lan's younger child, Darren, bred mostly mischief. Darren was eleven Turns old, and in Aurilla's opinion was an unquestionable annoyance and a pest. He was never still and always poking his skinny nose where it didn't belong. If there was something forbidden, chances were good that Darren would try it, just to see if he could get away with it. Before Aurilla had Impressed Amrianth, she had suggested to her father and mother that they foster her little brother out to another weyr or Crafthall before he drove everyone at Sun's Edge crazy. Her mother, Audra, had shaken her head and said she wouldn't dream of saddling another woman with Darren, it would be far too much to ask of anyone else.

"He'll grow out of it eventually," Audra had sighed.

"Hopefully before all my hair's gone gray," R'lan had said, running a hand through his wavy locks, which were still a uniform brown. "Until then we've just got to be patient."

Aurilla had bit her lip, for though she was patient with animals and dragons, her brother could make her angry in a heartbeat. Privately, she thought her parents were entirely too easy on the wretched scamp and should give him a good spanking more often. But there was slim chance of that. R'lan was the most easygoing rider in the whole Weyr, he hardly ever raised his voice, and Aurilla could count on one hand the times he'd raised a hand to her. Audra was a bit more strict, but she favored scoldings and chores over physical punishment, methods which did not seem to have the slightest effect on her rebellious son. And the one time Aurilla had lost her temper and given the brat a smack, _she'd_ gotten in trouble.

"If I'd thought beating you was an effective means of correcting behavior, both of you'd have been black and blue," her father had said sternly, frowning down at her. "In any case, discipline is my job, not yours, young lady, so next time let me handle it." Then he'd given her an afternoon's worth of peeling tubers and scrubbing pots in the Lower Caverns! As for Darren, all _he_ got was a stern talking-to and been made to write _I will not play with Aurilla's medical satchel_ one hundred times. Granted, given her brother's restless nature, his punishment must have seemed like an awful chore, but Aurilla knew that it wouldn't make an impression in her impulsive sibling's head past the time it took to think up some new mischief.

Sometimes Aurilla wondered how her parents lived with the embarrassment of having such a child. Granted, there _were_ times when Darren could be sweet and funny, but those qualities were eclipsed by his penchant for trouble, so much so that Weyrleader P'rell had given the boy the nickname of Trouble, as in "Uh oh, here comes Trouble."

Not that Aurilla herself was perfect, for she wasn't, but her transgressions usually were on behalf of some poor injured creature, not herself. Such as the time she'd found the injured runnerbeast and had snuck it into her father's weyr to tend, not realizing that it was unused to confined spaces. It had gone berserk and kicked down an entire shelf of numbweed jars and fellis juice vials and smashed a table and a chair before she had managed to corner it and calm it down. Her father had been furious. "How many times must I tell you to _ask_ before you bring an injured wild animal home, Aurilla? I'm not running a waystation for every injured creature on Pern, blast it!" His scolding that time had been particularly fierce, nearly making her cry, but at least he'd allowed her to treat the animal and had not made her turn it loose. He'd also made her replace every one of the broken pots of numbweed, the anesthetic salve that was native to Pern, and fellis juice, a chore that took days of backbreaking labor. But Aurilla did not regret saving the runnerbeast, only her foolishness at not confining it securely first!

Her penchant for bringing home injured wildlife persevered until she'd Impressed Amrianth, after that she was far too busy tending to her newly hatched dragonet to rescue wild animals. No one had been more surprised than Aurilla when she'd Impressed, she had not even intended to attend the Hatching that evening, she'd been up to her elbows in numbweed kettles, rendering down more of the smelly plant for the new batch of riders and dragons who'd been scored during the last Fall to take time out to watch the Hatching.

Darren had pestered her unmercifully, tugging her sleeve, and whining, "But you _have_ to go to the Hatching, Aurilla! _Everyone's_ gonna be there! You can make smelly old numbweed after, ugh!" And he'd wrinkled up his nose and gagged, so that she was forced to wipe her streaming eyes and chuckle at him. "And there's gonna be spiced wherry and meat pasties, bubbly pies and I don't know what else for the feast. You'll miss it all if you don't come. And so will I, cause Mom says I have to stay where you can see me, since this was the third time she caught me and Ranek sneaking onto the Hatching Grounds to touch Myalanth's eggs," he admitted shamelessly.

"Only you, little brother, would be caught three times in a row disturbing a queen dragon's eggs," Aurilla sighed, wiping her hands on a cloth. "Don't you ever learn?"

He scuffed a toe along the ground. "It was Ranek's fault," he grumbled. "He tripped and knocked into an egg and woke up Myalanth." Ranek was his playmate and partner in mischief, a fosterling of Rani, the head cook.

"Both of you know better than to pester a queen dragon this close to a Hatching," Aurilla scolded. "You're old enough to know better. You're just lucky the Weyrwoman didn't decide to punish you herself, else you'd have ended up with a sore bottom." Simona was short-tempered when her dragon was brooding her eggs and not inclined to put up with nonsense from the Weyr's most notorious mischief-maker.

Darren scowled, his unruly dark hair falling into his blue eyes. "I'd have rather gotten beaten than been stuck in here with you all day watching you making numbweed. How can you stand the _smell_? Makes me want to throw up." He put a hand over his mouth to illustrate his point. "In fact, if I don't get some fresh air, I'm gonna puke right here." He gave a convincing moan and held his stomach.

Aurilla's head jerked up, alarmed. "Darren, don't you _dare_!" she cried. "If you make yourself sick, I'll throttle you, I swear it!"

"I don't know if I can help it," her brother groaned. "Please, can't we get outta here and go see the Hatching, Rilla? I'll behave and so will my stomach, I promise."

She shot him an exasperated look, debating on the wisdom of finishing her task or having to deal with a puking brother. To his credit, the boy _did_ look faintly green, so she wasn't sure if he was faking or not. It was better not to take the chance. "All right. We'll go to the Hatching," she acquiesced, tugging off her heavy wherhide apron, and moving the simmering numbweed kettles to the back of the hearth so they wouldn't scorch.

Darren gave a joyous yell and grinned at her like a dimwit. "Thanks, Aurilla, you're the best!"

She gave him a smile, then shook her finger at him. "Just you remember what you promised, Darren of Sun's Edge. You put one toe out of line and I'll tell the Weyrleader to skin you alive, got it?"

He gulped and nodded. He was afraid of P'rell, who was a strict unbending individual who did not have a sense of humor. P'rell only needed to look at a weyrling to make him or her behave. His voice alone could make a child tremble or cry, it was like gravel over metal, and even his riders feared his temper, which flared like summer lightning.

Aurilla washed her face and hands in the basin of warm water, combing her short brown locks back with her fingers. Her hair, unlike her brother's, was fine and tended to tangle, which was why she kept it short to her shoulders. She had a serious heart-shaped face and wide eyes of a startling bright green. She was of average height and slender, though she did not take care with her appearance the way most girls her age did, she knew better than to wear fine dresses and such when tending sick animals.

Her mother, who was the Weyr's head seamstress, had made her a fine Gather dress of plum-colored cotton with embroidered fire lizards around the hem and sleeves, which went exceedingly well with her golden-tanned skin and dark coloring. She had planned to wear it at the next Gather. Recalling it, she quickly decided she would wear it for the Hatching, which was an important event and one in which the weyrfolk dressed to impress, no pun intended.

But before she could go to her room and shed her old tunic and pants for her finery, a deep throbbing hum began, seeming to shake the Weyr. She felt a shivering shudder race through her, and all her nerves were alight and quivering.

"Aurilla! The eggs! They're hatching!" Darren cried, dragging her out the door of the workshop and down the corridor. "Come _on! Hurry!"_

The humming came from the throats of all the dragons in the weyr, serenading the entrance of their kind into the world. All the bronzes in the weyr were arrayed in a large semi-circle on the ledges above the Hatching Grounds, humming in harmony to the rocking eggs. Aurilla had a vivid image of this as she followed her brother down the corridor and up the stairs to the sand-strewn arena that was the Hatching Grounds. She had been a small child, maybe four or five Turns, the last time a Hatching had taken place, and she could barely remember it.

For some reason, this time, the dragons' humming awoke an urgency within her. It was imperative that she reach the Hatching Grounds _now_. It was the kind of feeling she'd had only once or twice before, when she'd helped her father tend a badly wounded dragon or his rider. Yet, it was subtly different as well. There was no threat of death, no fear, just a sense of . . .excitement and expectancy.

They arrived at the grounds just in time to see the first dragonet crack its shell. It crooned loudly, shaking off the moisture from its wet brown wings. Then it stumbled towards the white-robed candidates standing on the hot sands waiting to Impress. It made right for a tall blond-haired boy of about fifteen, crooning hungrily. The boy put out a hand and the little dragon butted his chest, its multi-faceted eyes whirling green-blue.

The boy locked his eyes with the brown's—and in that instant Impression occurred. He knelt in the sand and hugged the little dragon. "His name's Tilareth!" he announced, grinning broadly.

The rest of the watching weyrfolk cheered. Now other eggs were rocking and splitting their shells, and more wet dragonets were tumbling to the sands, crying out in hunger and searching for their life partners on the hot sands. Three greens, a blue, two more browns, and three bronzes emerged and Impressed one of the candidates standing there.

The candidates were mostly boys, though a few girls stood around too, to Impress the female green dragonets and the single golden queen who had hatched. The candidates were between twelve and seventeen Turns of age and each of them waited eagerly to Impress one of the young dragons, shifting from foot to foot on the hot sand.

Darren was tugging on her sleeve again, indicating they should climb up the ramp to the tiers of seats on the right side of the Grounds where everyone save the candidates were seated. Aurilla caught a glimpse of her mother and father sitting next to S'vril the Weyrharper and farther down on the benches nearest the sand were P'rell and Simona.

She shoved irritably at her brother, indicating he should go and join their parents. For some reason she was drawn towards the middle of the sands, where the rest of the clutch of thirty-two eggs were hatching. Nearly all the eggs had hatched, and the little gold dragon queen had been Impressed by the shy redhead from Seven Seas Hold, who shouted that the new queen's name was Ravannath.

Aurilla felt a sudden pang of envy that she was not standing on the sands waiting to Impress a dragon too. But she was only thirteen and had not thought to ask to be considered for Impression this year. She had been so busy tending her various animal patients and healing other riders' dragons that the thought hadn't even crossed her mind that perhaps she ought to have one of her own. She owned a small canine, a type known as a greyhound, sleek and gentle, called Streak. She had found the dog all torn and bloody after an attack by some gigantic felines, one leg broken and half-dead. Her father had suggested kindly that they ought to put the poor animal out of his misery, but Aurilla refused. "I can save him, Dad. I _know_ I can. Please let me try." And she had, in what had been the most terrific fight of her life. That had been six months ago, and now the canine was fit and healthy and her beloved friend. Though he still walked a bit stiffly on his near fore and had scars from the feline's claws down one side. But Aurilla didn't care. Sometimes it paid to be stubborn.

The last egg had cracked, and a large emerald-colored dragonet staggered about on the sands, crying imperiously. Several boys and girls moved towards it, but the green dragon ignored them, pushing them aside with her wings and small forearms.

Aurilla stared at the green hatchling, noting at once how beautiful she was, with her deep green color and perfectly wedge-shaped head. Her wings were a lighter green and so were her small neck ridges. Her bright eyes whirled with agitation and she opened her mouth and roared indignantly.

_Hey! Aren't you listening? I said I'm HUNGRY!_

It took Aurilla about half a minute to realize that the demanding voice she heard was in her mind—that the dragonet was speaking to _her_. She took two uncertain steps forward, wincing as her thin slippers came into contact with the burning sand. Surely she couldn't have heard—?

_Don't you care that I'm STARVING here?_ The little green cried piteously, half-running half-flapping over to her. She caught one of her claws and tripped, falling face first into the sand.

Automatically, Aurilla knelt and helped the green to her feet, holding her head. "Poor baby!" she crooned. "Are you all right?"

_I'm fine. And dying of hunger,_ came the plaintive reply. The dragonet's eyes met hers.

In that instant she felt as if her world had dissolved and reformed about her in a heartbeat. Her new world now was filled with the presence of her wonderful dragon, her soul's companion for now and forever. A part of her that had been lacking had now been filled. She was complete now as never before. Her heart, her mind, was filled with love and the knowledge that here was one who would understand and accept her unconditionally. Overwhelmed, she began to cry, tears trickling down her face to fall on her dragon's upturned snout. "Me? You want me?" she sniffled.

_Of course I do. Please don't cry. I love you. My name is Amrianth._

Aurilla hugged the crooning dragon to her and smiled through her tears. "I'm Aurilla. And you need some food _now_, before you starve to death, I know." She stood up, one arm about the dragon's neck, to find an older rider at her side with a bucket of freshly chopped raw meat. "Good thing I'm not squeamish like some girls," she said to the rider and began feeding her green wonder meat as quick as she could.

_More. More._ Amrianth said, gobbling chunks as fast as she could.

"Chew it first," Aurilla ordered firmly, taking the same tone with the dragonet as she did with her brother. "You'll choke else. Or throw up."

_But I'm so hungry._

"I know. But you need to chew first, okay?" she soothed the ravenous hatchling.

"That's good," approved the rider. "You need to be firm with them at first, else they can overeat. They're like babies, all stomach and impatience. Looks like yours is more demanding than most greens too."

Amrianth swiveled her delicate head and glared at the elder rider. _I'm starving, not demanding. My name is Amrianth. Who are you?_

The rider grinned. "Not shy are you, little one?" he bent to scratch behind her eye ridges. "My name's B'ren, bronze Varinth's rider." Then he turned to Aurilla. "You're R'lan's daughter aren't you? The one who heals the animals."

"Yes, sir."

"Figured you'd Impress. Anyone who has a talent for healing like you do is needed in the weyr. Congratulations, young lady. Your parents must be real proud."

As if on cue, she heard Darren's voice shouting, "Mom! Dad! Look! Aurilla's Impressed a _green_! She's a _dragonrider_!"

She looked up towards the stands and saw her brother waving excitedly. Then she gasped, for her mother and father were laughing and hugging each other, utterly delighted. Then her quiet and soft-spoken father let out a yell that could be heard across Pern and cried, "That's my girl! Way to go Aurilla!"

Aurilla was laughing too. "Thanks, Dad!" she called, then bent to feed her dragon who was crooning impatiently. "Come on, you bottomless pit," she said affectionately, stroking Amrianth's head. "The Weyrlingmaster's calling us. We need to get you settled in the barracks and me too, I suppose. Oh, Shells! My numbweed! I hope Mom remembers I was making it. I wasn't expecting to Impress you know, my sweet."

_Is that bad?_

"No. Oh no!" she hastily reassured her dragon. "You're the best, most wonderful dragon on Pern and I love you to pieces, Amrianth. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. It's just that I never expected to be a dragonrider and I'm still getting used to it."

_What's there to get used to? You are my rider. I am your dragon. I am yours and you are mine, we are one. We belong to each other._

"You're right," Aurilla laughed, kissing her dragon between her eyes. "I can be both healer and dragonrider."

_You can be whatever you want. But please, feed me!_

Aurilla obeyed, tossing the green another chunk of meat. Little Amrianth reminded her of Darren when he was a baby. He'd always been starving and screaming when he woke up too. She coaxed the dragonet down the corridor to the weyrling barracks, following the other newly Impressed riders. _Good thing I know quite a bit about babies already,_ she thought. _For the next few months all she's going to want to do is eat, sleep, and grow. _Aurilla began to hum a lullaby as she walked along, the same song her mother used to sing to her and Darren when she rocked them to sleep.

**Author's Note: This story is very AU, so please forgive any errors you see in it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: I originally wrote this for a friend who had never read anything about dragonriders or Pern, so forgive me if I tend to describe things in detail. This is my first time writing in Anne McCaffrey's world, so if I make any errors, please overlook them, I usually write Harry Potter fanfics. Thanks as well to truegold-dragonstar for the helpful comments.**

And for the next few months, Amrianth did just as Aurilla had predicted, eating voraciously, sleeping, and growing rapidly. Two Turns later, she was almost fully grown, large for her size and possessed of a keen intelligence, a wicked sense of humor and inclination to gossip. Amrianth loved to talk and could and would talk to just about everyone. Sometimes, when Aurilla was away treating a patient, Amrianth would even talk to Streak, who liked to curl up between the green's forelegs and nap. The little dog and the dragon got on famously, and it was not an uncommon sight to see the two of them relaxing beside the lake or hunting the flock of wherries together. Though Amrianth was fully capable of catching prey without Streak's help, she liked the dog's company and allowed the swift greyhound to herd the wherries towards her, allowing her the choice of the fattest birds.

The friendship between the dog and dragon was very amusing to most of the riders, who had never thought of a dragon wanting anything other than his or her rider.

"Whoever heard of a dragon befriending a canine before?" P'rell had remarked, frowning.

"Ah, but remember, this is _Aurilla's_ dragon," D'vin, brown Nereth's rider, had pointed out. He was her father's good friend and almost like family to her. "It's only natural that Amrianth share her rider's tolerance and love of animals. Like rider, like dragon."

P'rell snorted. "Just as long as she doesn't expect to take that dog along when they fight Thread, I suppose I'll permit it."

Privately, D'vin wondered how in the world P'rell thought he could prevent the dragon's friendship with the dog? Granted, he could order Aurilla to send the canine away, but such a heartless act would earn him the enmity of many of the riders, especially when he had no cause to do so. _Sometimes_, D'vin thought scathingly, _P'rell can be a pompous hidebound fool. _

_I agree,_ remarked Nereth_. There is nothing wrong with Amrianth's friendship with Streak. The dog has better manners than some people I could name. And is more useful too._

_You'll get no argument from me there, my friend,_chuckled D'vin_. __P'rell's a traditionalist, that's all. Thinks anything new is an insult to his viewpoint. But he'll come round eventually. Kevath likes Streak too, doesn't he?_

_He does,_ Nereth affirmed_. As I said before, the canine is useful in driving game to us, so we don't need to fly as far to catch it. He can understand us too, after a fashion._

_Really? The dog can hear you speak to him?_

_If I speak slowly and clearly, then yes, Streak can understand what I or any dragon wishes. He is not as smart as a human or one of us, but he's not hopelessly stupid like a wherry either. I like him. I wouldn't want him to leave._

_Seems to me like you're getting lazy, letting a mere dog do your hunting for you,_ D'vin teased.

_Lazy! I am not! I'll have you know I can outfly all but the largest bronzes here. And I can outmaneuver every dragon save Amrianth,_ Nereth said indignantly.

_All right already! I apologize, I was only teasing. Don't you know how to take a joke?_ D'vin sent back, grinning sheepishly.

_Oh. Sorry. I thought you were serious. You don't think I'm getting out of shape, do you?_

After reassuring his rather vain brown dragon that he was in wonderful shape for having fought Thread for about fifteen years, D'vin headed off to the Lower Caverns for some meatrolls, fruit, and _klah._

Amrianth was different from most other dragons in other respects as well. Not only did she like to talk with people other than her rider, she was also good at assisting Aurilla with injured dragons, soothing them so that her weyrmate could treat them. Like her rider, Amrianth could project a soothing calm aura into the dragon's mind, easing the fear and pain the dragon felt so it did not struggle too much when Aurilla stitched and cleaned out lacerations or set broken bones.

Not that there were very many casualties, P'rell was too good of a wingleader for that. Still, there were injuries from a rider or a dragon being too careless or too slow ducking and sometimes numbweed was not enough to heal Threadscore. Usually, R'lan handled the more severe cases, since he was Senior dragonhealer and had more experience. But occasionally, when there were more than one severely scored dragon in a wing, Aurilla was called in to help, and she did a fine job of it. She was deft and quick, able to size up the damage done to the dragon in a glance and diagnose a course of treatment in a few minutes. She had never lost a patient since she had begun healing alongside her father, and she was a bit proud of that fact, which worried R'lan.

"You can't save them all, Aurilla, no matter how hard you try or how good you are," he had cautioned her more than once. "Someday, you're going to have to deal with one who's too badly hurt to save and I just want you to be prepared. It isn't easy watching a patient die, human or dragon. But sometimes we have no choice."

Aurilla had said nothing, not wanting to contradict her father. All the same, she thought it had been more skill than luck that had enabled her to fix every dragon and animal she'd ever treated. Not that her father was not a good healer, he was excellent, and she respected his skills immensely. Few of the dragons who were under his care had died, and none in this last Fall. But sometimes he seemed almost arbitrary about his work and not half as passionate as she was. He tended to distance himself a bit from those he tended, which was perhaps why some of the dragons under his care had died. Those with the worst injuries he healed, true enough, but he did not throw himself into the procedure heart and soul the way he did with some of the others. The way she did with every patient she'd ever had.

The young healer did not realize that her father distanced himself to prevent his gentle soul from being ripped to pieces each time a critically injured dragon or rider (for sometimes he treated them too) died. R'lan had tried to warn her about becoming too emotionally involved with the worst cases, such as the dog, but he sensed that mere words would mean nothing to his stubborn daughter. She was as passionate about healing as she was about her dragon and could be obsessive about it. The way he had been once. Like father, like daughter, he'd thought wryly. And like him she would simply have to learn the hard way. He did not have the heart to force this lesson on her, only to hope that when she lost a patient she would not be too devastated.

"Death is a part of life. You can't shield her from that forever, love," his ever practical mate had remarked on one occasion after Aurilla had rescued Streak from death's jaws.

"I know. I know. But the first time is so brutal. . . ." he shook his head sadly. "I was a wreck for weeks afterwards, scared to death to pick up a needle, afraid that it had been my fault that Serenth went _between_ forever. If it hadn't been for you and Draketh reassuring me, I might not have ever healed another dragon."

"Ah, but you've never lacked for courage, my sweet R'lan," Audra had reminded him, stroking his thick dark hair playfully. "And neither does your daughter, I'd wager. If she's anything like you were, she'll cry for about a day or so, then she'll pull herself together and be healing again within a week. It's in her blood, you know."

R'lan put an arm about his wife and hugged her to him, amazed all over again that such a self-confident woman as Audra had chosen him for her mate. But then, she'd always known what she wanted and she'd obviously wanted him, since they'd been together for sixteen Turns now! He kissed her gently. "You're right, as always, my Audra. All I can do is be there to pick up the pieces afterwards. I've been there before, so that'll help. And I won't leave until I'm sure she's got her confidence back."

"When have you ever _not_ been there when someone needs you?" Audra asked tenderly. "You're a wonderful father, R'lan. Your children adore you."

"Yeah, well, what's not to adore?" he said with a smirk. Then he ducked his wife's cuff, his eyes sparkling mischievously like his son's. "One thing's sure, I'm ten times better than my father was, and the less said about that the better," the dragonhealer remarked tightly, his expressive eyes darkening. He rarely spoke of his childhood because it was so painful for him. Audra was one the few he'd trusted with the truth besides Draketh, that is. An instant later the dark mood was gone and he was smiling down at her, the provocative c'mere-and-kiss-me grin she loved so well.

So she did, because she'd never been able to resist him, her gentle dragonhealer with the clever hands and sweet smile, who loved her best of all next to his great dragon. She gazed up at him, her blue eyes glowing with barely restrained passion, and whispered in his ear, "It's a beautiful day. Let's go and take a walk down to the cove near the sea. You know which one I mean."

"All right, my little queen," he agreed. "I could use some exercise," his tone leaving no doubt as to the exercise he was referring to. They left the weyr arm-in-arm, and above them on the ledge, a brown dragon watched them with affectionate amusement.

_Have fun, you two!_ Draketh sent with a wicked mental note to his rider.

R'lan glanced up and met his dragon's eyes. _Oh, we will, you nosy beast. Now get outta my head, if you don't mind. Go take a nap or something._

_Why? _Draketh teased

_Draketh!_ sputtered R'lan, blushing red. _Please!_

_I'm not tired._

R'lan chose to ignore that last comment, his ears were already red enough from this discussion. Though he knew his dragon well enough to know Draketh would do as he asked and be absent from his head for awhile. There were some things a rider did not need to share with his dragon and vice versa.

"Draketh's been teasing you again," Audra observed with a smirk.

"How'd you know?"

"Your ears, dragonrider. They're a dead giveaway," she said, and traced one lovingly.

"Oh. Yeah. Never mind him. He won't disturb us for anything short of Threadfall and that's not for another four days yet. So let's enjoy the sun and the sand, shall we?"

"Among other things," Audra purred, and had the satisfaction of seeing her husband glow with love.

The day it happened was the same morning Aurilla woke up freezing after kicking off her blankets. It started out as a perfectly ordinary morning, Aurilla rose just as the sun did, flooding her sleeping chamber with fresh morning light. Unlike many of the weyrfolk, she actually enjoyed mornings and was always eager to begin the day.

She stretched luxuriously, brushed out her hair and dressed in her customary wherhide tunic and pants and soft boots. It was almost never really cold down here on the Southern Continent, so she did not bother with a jacket or a cape. Since her weyr was down at ground level, she did not have to go far to find the kitchens.

"Good morning, Aurilla," greeted Rani, who was Head Cook and something of a foster mother to her and Darren. "Up with the sun as usual, I see." Rani was a buxom woman with skin the color of toasted bread and black hair.

"Morning, Rani," she answered, kissing the older woman's cheek. "Mmmm. What are you baking today? Smells like redberry pies." Redberries were plentiful here in Southern, and while a bit tart, they made an excellent pie or pastry with some extra sweetener.

"Right on the nose, Dragonhealer," Rani smiled, returning the kiss with a hug. "There's a pot of _klah_ over there and some porridge warming. Fruit's on the table and if you give me a minute I'll have some sausage and maybe one of those pies you've been smelling."

"A redberry pie for me?" Aurilla's face lit up. She had a notorious craving for sweets. "Thanks, Rani." She went and poured herself a cup of _klah_, adding extra sweetener, then dished up some oatmeal with more of the same.

"No need to thank me, child. Like they used to say the early wherry catches the grub! Or in this case, the pie. You deserve a reward for getting up at this hour and not being grumpy." The woman said, giving the stew she was making a swift turn. Rani was full of odd sayings like that, which she had learned from her grandmother, she came from a long line of Record-Keepers. "Hungry I can deal with, but grumpy I don't put up with!" she told the young woman, shaking her spoon.

"If you're gonna be grumpy, you can just—" began another young kitchen helper.

"—GET OUTTA MY KITCHEN!" all three of them finished.

Rani slid a freshly baked redberry pie in front of her. "There you go, Rilla. Mind your tongue, it's still hot." She frowned at the young woman. "Huh. You're thin as a rail, girl. I'm gonna have words with your daddy, he's been working you to a shadow again." She slid another pie down next to the first.

Aurilla opened her mouth to defend her father, for in truth she worked herself to a shadow without any prompting from R'lan. Then she closed her mouth. Two of Rani's redberry pies were worth a little misunderstanding between friends. She began to eat her porridge first, knowing that when she was done the pies would be cool enough to eat without scorching her tongue. And they were.

"Here," the cook said just as she was leaving, having devoured every crumb. She shoved a sack into Aurilla's hands. "There's a few meatrolls and fruit and some pasties in there for midmorning, I know you get so wrapped up in your work you forget to eat half the time. And extra for that begging canine Streak too."

After giving the woman a last hug of thanks, Aurilla departed the kitchens and headed back to her weyr. Amrianth was just rousing, and Aurilla smiled at the rainbowed message her dragon sent her just before she took off from the ground to go hunt her own breakfast of wherries and herdbeasts, Streak trotting along beneath her.

Aurilla left the dragon to her hunt and walked down the short passage to her father's office, which she shared with him. She stowed the lunch sack up on a shelf out of the way of the medicines, then relit all the glows in the room. Once the room was brightly lit, she turned to examine the small cages on the back ledge, which held a bronze fire lizard with a broken wing, a cat with a slashed forepaw, and one of the spit canines with a burned ear.

She refilled each occupant's water dish, gave them food, and cleaned out their cages one by one. Then she checked them, speaking softly and reapplying numbweed and bandages where necessary. The little fire hissed a protest when she examined his wing, he was wild and not used to being handled, but he did not attempt to claw her. She called him Flick, for the way he flicked his small tail. "You're mending just fine, Master Flick," she told him, placing him back in the cage. "Another sevenday and you'll be all ready to fly out of here."

She said this with regret, for she had grown fond of the little fellow. But she knew he was too old to Impress and the best she could hope for was that he remembered her kindness and chose to return to her once she released him.

Taffy the kitchen cat's paw was mending well also, and she purred when Aurilla fed her. Aurilla liked cats too and often wondered how one would get along with Amrianth. Then again, she did not need a menagerie in her weyr, she reminded herself firmly. One dog and one dragon were more than enough for a Junior Dragonhealer.

The large canine, Ocras, licked her hand after she doctored him and she stroked his rough coat before putting him back in his cage. That was why she liked working with animals and dragons instead of people. They rarely complained and were always grateful when you tended them, unlike some riders, who complained until she wanted to scream and hit them over the head.

"Pain does funny things to a man," R'lan had told her once. "So you've got to be patient and understanding."

_Yeah, Dad. It turns them into big babies, _she had wanted to say, but did not dare. Her father would lecture her into the next Turn if she did, for one of the things he was adamant about with his apprentices was that they be compassionate and gentle with patients, no matter how ornery they were. His motto was _"Kind words heal as much as skillful hands."_

It was not that Aurilla did not feel sorry for those riders who got scored or hurt, but some of them whined about _everything_, up to and including their rooms being too hot and cold! And they were so _demanding_! Wanting you to wait on them hand and foot all day. More than once she'd had to bite her tongue from telling the whining man to shove off _between_ and stay there, which would have gotten her banished from healing for a month. But honestly, you didn't hear the women complain half as much when _they_ were sick! Perhaps it was a good thing women bore children, because if a man had to do it, the human race would have died out by now. Which was why she was grateful to be a dragonhealer, by the First Egg!

After she'd dealt with the animals she made notations on each of their charts—date, time, and treatment. R'lan had drummed the necessary evil of keeping accurate records into her from the time she could read and write legibly. A dragonhealer, or any healer for that matter, could not keep track of all procedures and doses reliably in his or her head. "That's why we keep charts of each patient, so that if something like this happens again and you need to treat it, you can just look it up and not have to worry about giving incorrect dosages and such. This way you're always accurate."

Aurilla therefore kept detailed notes on each and every patient she treated, even though keeping such records made her cross-eyed and her fingers ache. Her father was even more meticulous than she was, and had a filing system second to none. When she'd been younger, he'd made her copy over charts so she'd learn exactly how to document. It had been boring, dusty work, and she hadn't enjoyed it but she'd made damned sure she'd learned it, for someday another dragonhealer might need her diagnosis to save a life and she meant to make sure no dragon died of incompetence if she could help it. He also kept detailed drawings of dragon anatomy, made with help from Draketh. he'd even made a small model for study, complete with jointed wings and legs. She'd practiced on that first before she was allowed to work on real dragons.

She had just finished eating her lunch, even though it was early, when she heard her mother's voice scolding her brother from the next room, which was Audra's workroom. It adjoined the office, but was kept separate by a length of heavy red drapery. Sprinkling sand on her latest notations, she cocked her head.

"_Will_ you quit squirming, Darren!" she heard her mother say crossly. "If you make me have to re-do this hem . . ."

"But it's taking _forever_, Mom!" came her brother's whine. "I've been standing here so long my foot's fallen asleep."

"Twenty minutes, that's all," Audra said exasperatedly. "Now be _still_."

"Ow!" Darren yelped. "You stuck me."

"I'll do worse if you keep wriggling, scamp," she heard her mother growl.

"I can't help it," Darren muttered, then yelped again when his mother jabbed him with another pin.

"If you hold still for two seconds, she won't be pricking you, son." R'lan said calmly, coming into the piecework room and putting his hands on his son's shoulders to keep him from moving.

Aurilla darted a look around the partially drawn curtain, and saw her father standing behind her little brother, his big hands keeping him caged while his wife finished hemming the pair of breeches. "You know, if you didn't keep growing like a beanpole, you wouldn't have to go through this torture every month," the rider drawled easily, grinning down at his son, who heaved a sigh and relaxed into his father's chest, resigned to the fitting.

"You'll have your father's height, scamp, if your legs are any indication," his mother said, giving her husband a grateful look over her pincushion.

Darren preened at that and stopped shifting on the wooden platform long enough for Audra to pin the cloth securely in place.

_Pest!_ Aurilla thought affectionately, wishing she was taller, as it would make riding Amrianth easier when the time came to fight Thread. Not that she was looking forward to it, she'd tended too many scores not to know how dangerous it was, but such was a dragonrider's duty and she was the rider of a fighting dragon after all.

Speaking of Thread . . .the girl darted another look at her father, who was not wearing an ordinary tunic and pants today, but his wherhide riding gear. R'lan only wore that when Threadfall was imminent.

Her mother nodded, and R'lan removed his hands from Darren's shoulders. "You're done for now, son," he told the boy, giving him a gentle swat on the bottom as the boy sprang off the platform.

"Good, 'cause I'm starving," her brother said, moving over behind the curtain to take off the pinned pants. "Mom wouldn't let me eat breakfast till she fixed all my clothes," he told his father.

"That's because she knows you too well, Darren. Soon as you eat you scamper off somewhere and hide till dinnertime." R'lan said.

"Unless he's caught in some mischief first," Aurilla called from behind the drape.

"Stuff it, Rilla!" Darren yelled back. Then she heard his feet running down the back passage to the kitchens.

Aurilla rose and entered the sewing room, fixing her gaze on her father's wherhide uniform. "Is there Threadfall today, Dad?"

R'lan nodded. "Over the southern rain forest at noon, according to our timetables. I'll fly the first half, then Draketh and I will be back here to help you deal with any casualties."

"I'll make sure we've got plenty of numbweed and fellis on hand," Aurilla promised.

R'lan nodded, he trusted her to know how much supplies were needed without checking on her. "How are your other patients doing?"

"They're okay. I think Flick might be able to fly soon."

"Good, because you won't have much time to worry about him once this Fall's over," her father predicted.

"I know. I'll be too busy tending dragons," she said, standing up on tiptoe to kiss him good morning. "Be careful up there, okay? I don't want _you or Draketh _to be my first patient this Fall," she told him, the same way she always did when he went off to fight.

"Ah, but we'll be in good hands, won't we, Audra? Draketh agrees with me. Says there's no better healer at Sun's Edge save me," R'lan said proudly, giving his daughter a hug. Then he released her. "Well, I'd better get some food in me, I can't fly well on an empty stomach. Oh, and the Weyrlingmaster asked me to tell you he'll need you to help gather firestone when you're done with your healer duties."

"Yes, Dad."

"One other thing. If there's a real emergency, just remember to keep calm and handle it the way you do any other wound. I trained you well enough not to panic, cause if you're calm then so is the dragon. Remember, a cool head and quick hands save lives. If I'm not there, you have my notes to refer to, so don't be too proud to look up information, you hear?"

"Yes, sir. I can handle it, Dad, so don't worry. Just go out there and char Thread."

R'lan laughed at her insolent tone, then he gave her a gentle slap on the shoulder. "Spoken like a true dragonhealer. See you later, Aurilla."

Together, the healer and her mother watched him stride off down the passageway, worried half-smiles on their faces.

Aurilla put an arm about her mother. "He'll be all right, Mom. You know him, he never takes chances."

"I know, snippet. But I still worry every time he goes out." Then Audra brushed her hands on the sides of her skirts briskly. "Well, there's no sense in brooding over him now when there's cloth to be sewn. I knew what I'd have to deal with long before I married the man. Dragonmen must fly when Thread's in the sky," she quoted softly.

Aurilla nodded solemnly, though she couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt for her mother, for sooner than she would wish Audra would have two family members to worry about during Threadfall.

_Tell your mother she need not worry,_ Amrianth sent_. Draketh will bring R'lan home safely. And I will do the same for you. No harm will befall you when you fly with me._

Aurilla smiled at the definitive tone in Amrianth's voice. Plainly her dragon was confident enough for both of them and had no fear of flying Thread. Aurilla kept her reservations to herself, as there was no point in agitating Amrianth with something that hadn't even happened yet. The green dragon was still too young for a fighting wing, though she had proved unusually adept at the weyrling exercises. Still, it was up to the Weyrleader when and if Aurilla joined a fighting wing, though she knew P'rell would not hesitate to fly her when he had need.

But that was still a Turn or two away and right now she had better things to do than worry about flying in a wing. She had to check on the quantities of numbweed in the barrels and fellis juice, a powerful soporific, as well as bandages and cloths, needle and gut for stitching, hot water, and assistants who wouldn't faint at the first sight of blood.

__

I will help you.

_I know you will, love,_ she sent gratefully back to her partner, then hurried off on her errands with a lighter heart. Knowing Amrianth was there to support her always made her feel better. Together they could deal with anything_._

She had already arrayed her medicines and her assistants in ranks like a general before the first Threadscored dragons emerged from the icy nothingness of _between_ to land on the ground before the lake. The first three dragons, green Midrith, blue Galanarth, and bronze Kellith, suffered only wingtip lacerations, minor scores that could be dealt with numbweed cloths and no stitching.

With Amrianth crooning reassurance to them and their riders holding their heads, Aurilla slathered on numbweed and gave them a bit of fellis-laced water to drink. Half-an-hour later three more dragons came in, these bearing hurt riders.

These she helped from their dragons and turned over to the WeyrHealer and his assistants. They were not her priority, their dragons were. Together she and Amrianth soothed and reassured the agitated dragons, telling them over and over that their riders would be all right, they were not dying, only hurt a little. She had discovered soon after bonding to Amrianth that dragons had super sensitive pain receptors, which was why a dragon often thought he was more injured than he absolutely was. The same was true of their riders' pain, which was why a dragon with a badly injured rider required constant reassurance. And since their riders were drugged into oblivion with fellis, it fell to her and Amrianth to provide the rock-solid certainty that their riders would live.

She coaxed the two blue dragons and the one brown back to their weyrs, then she sat with them, holding their heads in her lap and singing soft ballads to them, sending them wordless reassurances that there was nothing to fear, their rider was resting and would be well soon. "Sleep, Remarith, sleep," she hummed, stroking the blue head until the dragon closed his eyes. She could sense Amrianth doing the same to the worried green Esmereldath, telling the other dragon that she would _know_ if her rider was near death and all Brianna was doing was sleeping. Giving the blue dragon a last comforting scratch, she moved on to tend brown Cyganth.

She glanced at the sky as she sat with the troubled brown, noting that it had been nearly two hours since the Fall had begun. Her father should be back soon, he was always dismissed from Fall early to help tend casualties.

_Are you sure M'ril will be all right? _Cyganth was asking for the fifth time, his eyes whirling red. _He always says it's just a scratch, but I know this time it wasn't._

The brown dragon was right, Aurilla thought grimly. This time M'ril had a bad score along his upper back, not a mere scratch. But nothing life threatening, only very painful. "You're right, it isn't a scratch, but it's not half bad as you're imagining, Cyganth. M'ril's a strong fellow, he can handle it. It won't kill him, only keep him weyrbound for a few weeks. Trust me on that. He won't die."

__

How can you be sure?

"I'm a healer, Cy. I _know._ He might hurt like blazes, but he won't die. Why, tomorrow morning he'll be bellowing for _klah_ and bread same as he always does."

__

Do you promise?

"I promise. Now c'mere, you big bag of bones and let me massage all the worry from your silly head," she urged, and the dragon put his head trustingly in her lap and sighed as she scratched and massaged him along his head ridges. He had just drifted off to sleep when a dragon's shriek exploded in the air, jerking her to her feet instantly.

That scream was one a dragon only made if he was in mortal agony, he and his rider both. Before she could race down the stairs, she heard Darren's shrill voice calling, "Aurilla! Come quick, it's bad. _Real bad!"_

Then Amrianth said, _Hurry, weyrmate! Nereth and D'vin need you NOW!_

Nereth and D'vin? She thought dazedly as she raced out of Cyganth's weyr. They couldn't be hurt, they were one of the best Wing-Seconds in Sun's Edge. Not to mention that D'vin was almost like an uncle to her and Darren. And Nereth, he'd given her rides when she was a little girl, and played catch with her when she was five, like a big brother. _I'm coming!_ She sent frantically to Amrianth. _Tell Nereth to hang on, I'm almost there._

She jumped the last few feet down the stairs, nearly falling onto the hard packed earth, Nereth's cries ringing in her ears. Her heart came up in her throat at the sight that greeted her eyes.

Nereth was bleeding badly from a huge gash in his side and his wings were scored so badly they were in shreds. He was writhing in pain, his tail lashing wildly, and throwing his head about, making it impossible for the women to get to him and help D'vin off his back. His cries and terror pierced her to her soul, but she gritted her teeth.

_Cool heads and quick hands save lives,_ she reminded herself grimly.

"Amrianth!" she bellowed. "HOLD him, for shard's sake!"

She glanced up towards D'vin, who was slumped in the saddle, half-unconscious. She'd need to get him off before she could tend Nereth, before he injured the man further with his insane thrashing.

She heard Amrianth lift her voice in a wordless croon, humming for all she was worth. The green dragon came out and was touching noses with the brown, her eyes whirling green and blue colors, projecting calm and serenity for all she was worth.

_Be easy, little brother, be calm. Hush, hatchling, hush. Aurilla comes and all will be well.. Just relax and let her see to you,_ Amrianth purred into the stricken brown's mind, blanketing his agony with her own indomitable will, forcing the brown into immobility. She curled a talon about the other's head, holding the great dragon still.

_There, Rilla. I've tranced him. Get D'vin off._

If the situation had not been so dire, Aurilla would have grinned at her dragon's tone and her presumptuous words to Nereth. The big brown was more than three times the age of her green and twice her size too! But nothing daunted Amrianth when it came to helping her fellow dragons, she had as much presence as a queen when she chose to use it. She was the stubbornest dragon in Sun's Edge, Aurilla thought proudly, then jumped up to unfasten D'vin's fighting straps and drag him down.

The semi-conscious man's weight hit her like a rockslide and she fell back, her arms holding him as best she could. Then other hands and arms were about her, steadying her and taking the rider from her.

"Leave go now, lass," she heard WeyrHealer Asvar order. "I've got him. You go and tend his beast over there and let me worry about this one."

"Will he be all right, sir?" she asked, staring in horror at the mess of blood and grit that covered the rider's face.

"He's scored bad along the arm and side and he's got a busted nose, I think, from his dragon's knocking into him, but I've seen worse, lass," Asvar told her matter-of-factly, shifting the man to one shoulder easily. "His dragon's the one you've got to worry about, girl."

At that D'vin's eyes fluttered open and he met her gaze. He coughed sharply, moaned, and then gasped, "Save Nereth . . .Rilla, promise me! Whatever it takes . . .save _him_!" he grabbed her hand, squeezing it hard. "_Promise!"_

"I promise, D'vin. Rest now."

His hand slipped from her as he lapsed back into unconsciousness. Tears prickled her eyes as she watched the healer take him away. _Please live, D'vin. Please. I couldn't stand it if we lost you. Or Nereth either._

She swiped a hand across her eyes and forced herself to look at the critically injured dragon. This was the emergency her father had warned her of. This was what she'd been training her whole life to deal with. She clenched her hands into fists. She would not fail. She was her father's daughter. She had never lost a patient yet and she would not begin with this one.

"Fellis juice and numbweed! On the double!" she snapped, and was rewarded with people scurrying to do her bidding. _I'll save you, Nereth. I promised._

She bent to examine the shredded wing joints while her assistants slathered the oozing wounds with numbweed and someone else coaxed a fellis mixture down the dragon's throat. The damage was bad . . .very bad. She did not know how the dragon had managed to fly his rider home with his wings in such a condition. The sails were scorched almost to nothing and the delicate wing bones cracked. She did not know if she could repair them. It was possible that even if she could keep the dragon alive, he'd never fly again.

_Oh, Nereth! Damn! _She thought, angrily swiping at her eyes, which kept filling with stupid tears_. I wish Dad was here. He would know how to help better than me. _She took a deep breath. _But he's not and there's only you, so quit crying and heal, Dragonhealer!_ She ordered herself scathingly. Then she remembered something. R'lan wasn't here, but his notes were.

She spun around. The first person she caught sight of was her brother, staring up at the bleeding dragon in fascinated horror. "Darren! Run to Dad's office and get me the files on wing repair and critical Threadscore. Move!" she barked, sounding like P'rell in a temper, had she only known it.

Darren blinked, then shook his head. "I'm on it, Aurilla!" he said and bolted away as quickly as his skinny legs could carry him.

"Get me hot water and antiseptic and needle and gut," she ordered another woman, who immediately hurried off to do her bidding. Minutes later she was back, and Aurilla was scrubbing her hands and arms tot he elbow with water and antiseptic. "Clean hands prevent infections," she explained when the woman raised an eyebrow. It was only later that she realized the woman she'd been ordering about like a drudge was Simona.

Darren returned with the files and she had him read her the notes while she attempted to sew the sail like wing membrane back onto the damaged tendons. Nereth was still now as she worked, the combination of fellis, exhaustion, and Amriath's iron will sending him to sleep.

Halfway into her task she knew it was hopeless. There wasn't enough membrane left for her to work with, not by half. And the tendons and muscles of the wings themselves were scored so bad it was a miracle Nereth could even flex them. _I can't do this! It's not enough. He'll never fly again, and what use is a dragon that can't fly?_ She wondered bitterly, staring down at her ichor covered hands. _But I can't give up. I won't. I promised D'vin. Save him, whatever the cost. And I will. I will._

She spent two back-breaking hours stitching and wrapping, coating broken bones with numbweed, working with a feverish desperation. Nothing mattered, not her aching back, not her sore hands, all that mattered was the dragon beneath her hands that she had sworn she would mend. She was aware of Amrianth in her head, asking worriedly if she was tired, that she should rest. She ignored her. She realized with some distant part of her mind that Darren was no longer reading instructions to her, but she was too busy sewing to demand he repeat another paragraph. She was blurry eyed from fatigue, but she refused to stop until she had done all she could.

"Don't worry, Nereth. You'll make it. I promise," she murmured over and over, her voice dry and harsh. Thirsty. She was so thirsty.

"She won't quit, R'lan," she heard someone saying behind her. "She's been with him nearly _three_ hours without a break or anything. I tried to get her to rest, but she just looks right through me as if I wasn't there and goes right back to sewing the shreds of the poor beast's wings. Doesn't she know she can't save him?"

_You're wrong. This one will not die!_ She though fiercely and continued to cut and sew_._

"As long as he still breathes, she'll treat him," came her father's weary voice. "But you're right, Rani. Enough is enough. She's going to make herself sick if she keeps on like this."

The next thing she knew hands were taking her needle and gut away. "Stop it now, Aurilla," a familiar voice was ordering her. "You've done everything humanly possible, now let it go."

She fought the hands, fingers grasping, snarling in fury. "Give them back! I _need_ them! Got to save Nereth . . ."

"He's alive, Rilla." R'lan said softly. "Now come away, you're exhausted and you're half-asleep on your feet. Come on now." He wrapped one lean arm about her waist, drawing her to her feet.

She muttered a protest, took two steps, and felt her legs give way beneath her. "Blast! I was afraid of that," she heard her father swear, then he picked her up, cradling her like a baby. She blinked up at him, trying to tell him about Nereth's condition, but her mouth was not working. "Shut up and go to sleep, girl," he ordered gruffly, smoothing her hair back from her face. "I know about Nereth, I've been monitoring him. Now rest, before you end up just like him."

She closed her eyes, sensing that now was not the time to argue with him. _Amrianth? Will you watch Nereth for me? I'm so tired._

__

I know. Listen to R'lan and sleep. I will watch my friend for you. This I promise.

Thus reassured, Aurilla allowed herself to sleep, falling into a deep black hole.

Despite all her care and stubbornness, Nereth lived only two more days before he died. Not even Amrianth could persuade him to live once he realized he would never fly again.

_I am a dragon. The sky is my home. Of what use am I to fight Thread if I cannot fly?_He had demanded. _I belong up there, not cringing along the ground._

"Don't say that!" Aurilla had cried fiercely. "Not every dragon fights Thread. D'vin needs you. So does Amrianth. You don't need to fly to be useful, Nereth. You can teach the weyrlings and dragonets. You've got so much experience, please, Nereth. You can't give up!"

He had sighed softly. _Little healer, I owe you my life. For that I thank you. But perhaps it would have been better had I died when I first landed. _

"No! How can you say that? Better for whom? Not D'vin, not me, not anyone. We love you, Nereth. With or without wings. D'vin won't care if you can't fly, I know he won't."

__

He might not, but I do. And I am the one who has to live like this. Child, I do not know if I can.

"You can. I'll help you," she whispered desperately, feeling him slip from her even as she watched.

__

You don't understand. How can you? You are human, you've never had wings. Flying is not just something I do, it is what I AM. And without it, I am nothing. Amrianth understands.

__

He is right, weyrmate. Much as I hate admit it. A dragon without wings is a crippled thing. It would be cruel to force him to stay like this.

She stared at her dragon, betrayal curling in her gut. "What are you saying, Amrianth? That I should just let him die? I can't do that. I'm a healer. I promised D'vin."

Nereth swiveled his head about to gaze directly at her. _Even healers fail sometimes, young one. You did your best, there is no blame. It is my time. Now let me go, please._

"Nereth . . ." she choked, her hands closing pleadingly on his neck.

__

I don't want D'vin to see me like this. Let him remember me as I was, proud and free, as a dragon should be. Not like this, a crippled shadow.

"Don't go . . ." she whimpered, tears falling on the brown hide.

__

There is a time for all things, little healer. A time to be born and a time to die. All dragons know this. I am not in pain now. Save when I think of what my life will be like from now on. Your will alone holds me here. Free me, Aurilla. Some promises are made to be broken. Like now.

"Nereth . . .are you sure?"

__

Yes.

"But . . .what will I tell D'vin?"

_Tell him it was my time. He will understand._

He nuzzled her gently.

_Do not grieve for me, little sister. For I will be at peace. And I shall fly again._

She could not reply, for grief held her mute. So she simply nodded.

Then she told Amrianth to let go her will and free him.

_You're free now, Nereth. Go and do what you must._ Amrianth crooned gently.

He threw up his magnificent head and spread the tattered remnants of his wings. _My thanks, little Amrianth. Remember me. I love all of you._ Then he launched himself skyward in one mighty leap, his wings fluttering in a vain attempt to keep him aloft. _Look after D'vin for me, Aurilla._ _Don't let him follow me __if you can help it,_ was his last thought before he went _between_ forever.

Almost instantly, the dragons began a shrill keening howl, mourning their loss.

Aurilla dropped to her knees, sobbing inconsolably.

R'lan found her curled up on Amrianth's couch an hour later, crying soundlessly into her dragon's wing. _She's very upset,_ Amrianth told him quietly. _I tried to talk to her, to tell her she did the right thing, but she refuses to hear me. She blames herself for Nereth's death._

"Yeah, that's what I figured." R'lan sighed, climbing up on the stone couch. "The first one you lose is always the hardest. No one knows that better than me. We healers hate to lose." He knelt and took his daughter's shoulder in his hands, turning her to face him. "Aw, snippet, don't do this to yourself. You did all you could, you know. Even _I_ couldn't save him, I knew it soon as I saw him. So don't beat yourself up for something you can't help."

"You don't understand!" she sobbed raggedly, clinging to him. "I made a promise and then I broke it. I let him die! I tried, Dad, I really did, but his wings . . .they were shredded . . .I couldn't fix them. . .But he was alive, until I . . ." she began to cry again, huddled in the dragonhealer's arms, overwhelmed with guilt.

"Until you let him rest," R'lan finished, his own eyes wet. "You made the right choice. I know it may not seem like that now, but you did what Nereth wanted. You can't force a dragon to live, Rilla. They have to want to and Nereth . . .didn't. To have kept him here would have been cruel and you've never been that." he shifted, holding her more firmly against his shoulder. "That's the hardest lesson you'll ever have to learn, snippet. Better you learn it now than later, when I'm not around to hold you."

She looked at him then and asked, "Was it like this for you too, the first time you lost one?"

"Exactly like this," he nodded. "Lucky for me I had your mother and Draketh to help me. You'll get over this, trust me. The pain will fade in time, but you'll never forget. Which is as it should be." He stroked her hair. "Go ahead and cry, that's what you need right now. You and Devin both," he said, using the non-contracted form of his friend's name now that he was no longer a dragonrider.

She followed his advice, weeping herself into exhaustion. R'lan held her until she was quiet, then scooped her up and put her to bed. "She'll be all right now," he told the green dragon. "She'll get better a little more each day. Though I'll have to repeat my little speech again later, I don't think she was paying attention."

_I can repeat it for you, if you like,_ Amrianth offered graciously_. And Devin?_

"He's a damn wreck right now, as can be expected. But I don't think he'll follow Nereth. He's got a family, and Rani will never let him go without a fight. Nor will I."

__

Good. Nereth said he was not to follow. You are very like your daughter, you know.

"Now _there's_ a big surprise," R'lan said with a soft laugh. "Take care of her, Amrianth."

__

Always, Dragonhealer.

Then the Senior Dragonhealer left his daughter sleeping, knowing her dragon would watch over her as tenderly as if she was one of her children.

**Well, how was that part? Please review, constructive criticism is welcome!**


	3. Chapter 3

**In answer to a few reviewers' questions, I have since altered my premise to a very AU fic instead of the original 500 Turns before the book Dragonflight, because it was too hard to coincide events with the original books. Henceforth, please remember this is a very alternate reality. I have also made the dragons, at least some of them, as smarter than the dragons in the books, they are at least as intelligent as the riders they bond to. And certain of them, like Amrianth have special talents, like the ability to impose her will on critically injured dragons, but only for a certain time period. Ie: Nereth STILL would have died, even though Amrianth held his will and prevented him from going between, there was NO way Aurilla could have saved him, only he would have died a slow agonizing death, wasting away gradually, as opposed to the swift finality of going between, which is why he begs Aurilla to 'let him go'. Her choice was the choice of a vet who must either put a terminally ill animal to sleep and give them a merciful death, or allow them to suffer and die, a very difficult choice, especially for one so young and overconfident. **

**Nereth's last request that D'vin not follow him was because D'vin had a family who needed him, and Nereth might have been vain, but was not selfish.**

**And now on with the story:**

R'lan's words to Amrianth proved to be a bit optimistic, for the next several sevendays both the former rider Devin and Aurilla languished in a pit of despair and guilt, each blaming themselves for Nereth's death. Devin was worse than the dragonhealer, for he'd been bonded to the dragon and losing Nereth was like losing a limb. Or a part of his soul. He missed the brown dragon dreadfully and if not for Nereth's injunction that he was not to follow the dragon into death, R'lan was certain his friend would have killed himself as soon as he realized his dragon was gone. As it was, he and Rani and Devin's children had all they could do to remind the devastated rider that he still had a reason to live and be happy, even without his weyrmate. It was an uphill battle all the way.

At first R'lan tried the same tactics with Devin that he had with his daughter, lending him a shoulder to cry on and a sympathetic ear. Rani did the same, dosing him with fellis juice and wine as necessary. This seemed to work at first, and as his wounds healed, Devin managed to smile a bit and act like his old self. Until he saw dragons flying outside of his window one day. Within a heartbeat, Devin plunged back into depression, refusing to eat, to talk, doing his best to will himself into a black coma.

R'lan refused to let that happen. When sympathy and compassion proved ineffectual the second time around, he decided to try a more harsh approach. Sometimes one good shock was enough to snap a person out of despair. Or so the dragonhealer hoped.

Thus he entered Devin's quarters the next day primed for battle. He greeted the dragonless man as if it were an ordinary day, throwing open the shutters and letting sunlight stream into the room. Devin remained stony faced, ignoring his friend, acting as if R'lan wasn't even there.

R'lan wasn't about to let him get away with that. He shook the other sharply. "Hey, Devin, I'm talking to you! Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to ignore someone when they were talking to you? Huh? No? Well, she should've. Look at that sun. It's a beautiful day outside, not a cloud in the sky. And what are you doing? Not a blasted thing, 'cept staring at the wall. What's _wrong_ with you, man?"

Devin blinked, his lip curling. For a moment, R'lan thought he was going to speak, but then the other man lapsed back into his blank stare. The dragonhealer scowled.

"You know, you aren't the first dragonrider to lose his damned dragon, Devin. Plenty of others lost theirs and they went on living. They didn't curl up and die over it." He shook Devin's shoulder sharply. "Damn you, don't give me that look! Nereth wanted you to live, understand? I know you hear me, even if you won't talk. So listen up, Wing-Second. You've got better things to do than sit here staring at the wall all day like an idiot. You've got a beautiful weyrmate who loves you and two wonderful children. They love you and they want you back. Little Dani and Ravin need their father, not some lump that sits in a corner all day feeling sorry for himself. It was your dragon's time. He couldn't live without his wings. But you, you have everything left to live for. Your family needs you, Devin. Poor Rani's got her hands full trying to be two parents and Head Cook all at once, she's wearing herself to a shadow. She's so worried over you she came to me crying the other day. And you know Rani doesn't ever cry over nothing. What kind of man makes his mate cry over him like that, huh? You ought to be ashamed, Devin. Maybe you think that's all right, though. Since you're suffering it's okay to make her suffer too. Well, you're wrong. Dead wrong. Shards, if Nereth were here right now, he'd kick your ass for making Rani cry. I'm thinking maybe I ought to kick your ass for him, since he's not here," R'lan snarled, then he smacked the rider across the face.

Devin blinked, then his eyes opened wide as he registered what the other man had done to him. "You bloody son of a watchwher!" he howled. "You hit me."

"That's right. And I'll do it again if you don't quit feeling sorry for yourself." R'lan told him sharply. "Now pull yourself together and act like a man instead of a coward."

Devin's eyes blazed and he came up out of the chair swinging. R'lan ducked the punch and caught the other man's arm easily, holding him fast. "You rotten bastard! Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?" he struggled in his friend's grip, but he couldn't break free, he was too weak.

"I'm your friend, Dev. Remember? And I don't want to lose you like you lost Nereth." R'lan said hoarsely.

Devin quit struggling then, going limp in the other's arms. "Oh Shards and Shells, R'lan. I'm sorry. I don't deserve you. Or Rani either. I feel so lost without him. There's this great big hole inside of me where he used to be. What do I do? Do you know?"

"Go and hold Rani, Dev. You don't have to go far, she's just outside the door. She'll help you fill up that hole better than almost anyone, I'm betting." R'lan cracked a small smile. "Go to her and let her love you and hug your kids. That's the best medicine for what ails you, my friend. Don't shut them out. They're your family now, same as Nereth was. And it's a good thing I told Rani I was gonna do this, else she'd have knocked me on my ass for yelling at you this way."

Devin managed a small smile. "I wouldn't have let her. Not that she would've. She always liked you best."

"Maybe so, but she _loves_ you, man. Now go on and tell her you're sorry and let her know you love her enough to stay with her."

"Yes, sir, Master Dragonhealer," Devin said. giving his friend a mock salute. "You bloody smartass."

R'lan laughed. "Look who's talking. Now get!" and he shoved his friend out the door and into the arms of his weyrmate, who had listened with bated breath to the entire exchange, hoping this gambit would work. She grabbed her beloved and kissed him fiercely, holding him so tightly that he gasped. "Oh, Devin. I love you so much. Don't ever leave me like that again, you hear?"

"I won't. I promise, Rani sweet." The former dragonrider declared and then he kissed his mate back.

R'lan left then, thinking that was one hurdle jumped. He hoped now that Devin was better, he could help him with his daughter, who was as trapped by her grief as the former dragonrider had been.

"Mom says you have to eat all of this," Darren informed Aurilla, shoving the tray at her. It was filled with fruit, sandwiches, a redberry pie and a pitcher of redfruit juice. "She says I'm to stay here and make sure you eat it all." He sat down on the stool next to her bed and crossed his arms.

She looked at the laden tray in dismay. Since Nereth's death she'd had no appetite to speak of, not even for Rani's redberry pies. Lately all the food turned to ashes in her mouth. "Since when do you do what Mom tells you?"

He shrugged. "Since now, I guess." He eyed her pie wistfully.

"You can have half," she offered swiftly.

"Can't. Mom's orders," he told her firmly. Then he added, "Besides, she says I can have two once you're done."

Aurilla snorted. "It figures. Bribery."

He leaned back on the stool, crossing his ankles. "Who cares? This way everyone's happy. I got new boots out of it too," he wriggled his new blue wherhide boots at her smugly.

"They're nice," she said softly, recognizing her mother's characteristic fine stitching on the sides. Once she would have been more effusive in her praise, for she knew just how much labor her mother put into those boots. She had taught Aurilla to sew, after all. Now though nothing really sparked her interest anymore.

She picked at her food, forcing herself to eat. She knew that if she did not eat Amrianth wouldn't either, and she'd already endured a blistering lecture from her father about neglecting her dragon. Which was not quite true, since she'd told her green to eat when she was hungry. It wasn't _her_ fault that Amrianth chose to ignore her rider's advice. Was it?

Guiltily, she bit into a sandwich, chewing and swallowing mechanically. She finished one sandwich then ate a piece of fruit, drank the juice and ate the pie. _There!_ She thought defiantly_. I've eaten all my supper like a good girl_. _Now I wish you'd all go away and leave me alone._

"You know you shouldn't blame yourself for Nereth's death, Rilla," Darren said softly. "Dad said he wanted to die and not even the best healer could hold him. He's had dragons die on him before and he's still a good healer."

"What would you know about it anyway?" she snarled. "You've never cared for anything except yourself."

"That's not true!" he flared back. "I care about Mom and Dad and you and Amrianth and Draketh. Know what I think, Aurilla? I think you're scared to heal anymore, that's why you're hiding up here like a scared wherry. But you shouldn't be. Just cause one dragon died on you doesn't mean more will."

"Shut up, you little brat! You don't know what you're talking about. Now get out of here before I slam you one!" she rose to her feet, one hand lifted threateningly.

He backed away, shooting her an injured look before he fled, his lower lip quivering._You could have been a bit nicer, you know,_ Amrianth interjected._ He was only trying to help._

_I don't need his help. He can't possibly know how I feel or why I won't heal anymore. He doesn't know how it feels to watch someone you love die like that._

_He knows you are unhappy. You weren't before, when you were healing. Perhaps he is right and you need to go back?_

_I can't. Not yet. Don't ask me why, please._

_Very well. You will tell me when you are ready,_ the green dragon said, and settled her head on her forefeet for a nap.

Miserable, Aurilla stared down at the empty tray. Now she would have to return it to the kitchens herself. But even that was better than going into her father's office again, or going to tend to those dragons who'd been hurt along with Nereth that day.

She had tried to go back, three days after Nereth had died, she had stood in the doorway of one of the treatment rooms and watched her father treat the scores on an injured bronze. They weren't even half as serious as Nereth's but she remained rooted to the floor, unable to go in and even hand him cloths. For the first time in her life she had been afraid to be in the same room as an injured dragon.

Afraid that she would fail again and have to watch yet another that she cared for die.

It did not matter that none of the dragons were severely injured. One dragon had died in spite of all she could do to save him. Who was to say that it wouldn't happen again? In all likelihood it probably would happen again. Sometime.

And she did not know if she could bear it a second time.

So she had watched for as long as she could then fled, cursing herself for a coward all the way back to her weyr.

Since then she had withdrawn from everyone and everything, hating herself for her weakness but not knowing how to admit it to anyone, even her beloved Amrianth. She avoided the office and the healing dragons like the plague, remaining mewed up in her apartments, a sad sorry specter of the girl she had once been.

Even her father had not been able to banish her melancholy, though he'd come by to talk to her several times. The last time, she'd pretended to be asleep, unable to face him and tell him what was truly bothering her. He'd never understand, since he'd had the courage to continue healing in spite of those who had died. Unlike her, who got the shakes just handling a pair of tweezers or a needle, her mind replaying with vivid accuracy the last time she'd held the tools of her trade, hands covered in ichor, stitching frantically, all the while knowing it was useless . . .

Dragonhealer, they called her._ Ha! Dragonkiller was more like it,_ she thought bitterly. For she'd watched and done nothing when Nereth had killed himself. She had gone over their last conversation in her head repeatedly, trying to determine if there had been anything she had said or did that might have caused the dragon to give up and die. She could not find anything, yet still her guilt persisted. There must have been some way she could have persuaded Nereth to live. Something she could have said or did that she'd missed.

_I was so sure of myself, so confident that I could handle anything the way my father did. I knew the procedures backwards and forwards, I never dreamed there would be a time when my hands and my skill failed me. Stupid! Stupid wherry-headed idiot! I should have called Dad as soon as I saw him. But I wanted to do it all myself, and Nereth died to save my pride._

She recalled the last words the brown dragon had said to her._ Look after D'vin for me, Aurilla. Don't let him follow me if you can help it._

She had not even been able to do that much for Nereth's memory. She had been too ashamed to face the man and admit that it was her mistakes that had killed his dragon. Instead she had left that task to her father, who had worked a miracle and brought the distraught man back from the black pit he'd fallen into. She was glad. Her father was a better healer than she would ever be.

She rose to her feet and picked up the tray. Perhaps if she hurried she could slip the tray back to the kitchens without anyone noticing her. Especially Rani, who must surely blame Aurilla for almost killing her mate. Yes, it was after the midday meal. People would be relaxing around now and would not be gathered in the kitchens. No one would be about, and she could simply leave the tray on the table for one of the drudges to take care of and slip away with no one the wiser.

Aurilla the Ghost, she thought wryly. That was what she was now, a shadow of her former self.

She padded down the corridor, her feet soundless on the stone. All was quiet, everyone was resting in the midday heat. She slipped into the kitchens, breathing in the steamy spicy scent of klah and some kind of nut bread as well. Stew simmered on one of the hearths. She crept over to the counter where the apprentice cooks chopped up vegetables under Rani's watchful eye and set the tray and crockery down on it.

There. Mission accomplished. Now she could return to her room.

A soft cough startled her, making her jump. Whirling about, she saw a tall man sitting at the far table in the corner, nursing a cup of klah. She froze. He was thinner and paler, his face had shadows on it that hadn't been there last time she'd seen him, but she had no trouble recognizing Nereth's former rider.

Her throat closed up. What could she say? How could she talk to him now, with this awful shadow hanging between them? But she must say something, her mother had not raised her without manners.

"Hello, Aurilla," he greeted her.

"Hello, Devin," she managed, remembering at the last instant not to contract his name. Contractions were for dragonriders, who used shortened forms of their names for easier communication when flying Threadfall. Or at least the men did. For some reason the women didn't.

An awkward silence followed and she could not think of what else to say. Asking how he was doing would be the height of rudeness, for how could he be anything but miserable with his dragon dead? And discussing the weather was stupid, for any fool could see that it was a sunny day. She gazed at his glazed clay mug, unable to look into his eyes.

"Come and sit down and have some klah," he invited, waving her over to sit next to him.

His request both astonished and horrified her. Why would he want to sit next to the healer who had failed to save his dragon, after she had promised him she would? Panicking, she stammered, "No, I can't. I have to go see a patient. . ."

Then she bolted like a terrified runnerbeast.

"Aurilla, wait!" he called after her. "I need to talk to you."

She could hear his footsteps behind her and she ran faster, back towards the safety of her weyr.

"Leave me alone!" she cried. "I don't want to talk to anyone."

He followed her, ignoring her words. "Why are you running from me, Rilla? All I want to do is talk to you."

"No! I can't do that," she babbled, wondering why it was taking her so long to reach her weyr. Too late she realized that she'd taken the wrong passage in her haste, this was the one that led outside to the lake, not her apartments.

Trapped, she slid to a stop and turned to face him, quivering like a herdbeast brought to bay by a dragon.

He came to a halt inches before her, fixing her with his dark eyes, that contained both sorrow and confusion in their depths. "Why are you afraid of me, Aurilla? You never used to be before. When you were little you used to run to me and beg me for rides on my shoulders. Is it because I've lost Nereth? It's not like a disease, you know. You won't catch it by talking to me," he said sadly.

"I know that. What I don't know is how to tell you that I'm sorry," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Devin! I didn't mean to let him die, I swear!"

He stared at her for a full minute, bewildered. "Of course you didn't. You mean you thought . . .I'd blame you because Nereth died? You silly little idiot, the whole weyr knows how hard you tried to save him."

"But it wasn't enough!" she wailed. "He still died."

"Yeah, he did. But that wasn't your fault, Aurilla. He chose his death. It was his time. He told you that himself, Amrianth said so. She was there, she told me everything he said before he died. He never blamed you for not being able to fix his wings, healer. And if he didn't then how could you ever think I would?"

"Because I blame myself!" she burst out. Then she clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified at her words.

"I know you do. And it's got to stop. Flogging yourself over what could have happened is making both you and Amrianth miserable. Now, maybe you've got the right to make yourself miserable, but you don't her. She doesn't deserve it. Unless you blame her too for Nereth?"

"No! I'd never . . .she tried her best, I was the one who told her to let Nereth go. She wouldn't release him until I said so, even though she knew he was dying. She knew I'd never let him go until I understood what he was trying to tell me . . ." Fresh tears streaked her cheeks.

"And what was that?"

"That he was a dragon and . . .a dragon needs his wings to be whole."

Devin nodded, his own eyes glistening. "That's right. Their true home is up in the sky. They only live life on the ground because we do. A dragon without wings is like an artist without hands. He could never live like that. And I'd never want him to."

"But . . .you're his rider!"

"Were," Devin corrected gently. "And not a day goes by that I don't miss him. I'd give my right arm to have him back. But not like that. Not crippled and unable to fly. That price is too high, even for me. Bad as it hurts to have him gone, it'd be ten times worse to have him live like that." he swallowed sharply. "And he knew it. I'm just glad that it was you with him at the end . . .because you loved him almost as much as I did."

"I just wish I could've kept my promise," she said brokenly, beginning to sob.

"Me too," he said, then he hugged her to him, and together the two mourned the loss of their friend.

After a time, Devin reached into a pocket and took out a handkerchief. "Here. Blow your nose, kid. Go on, don't be shy. I have extras, Rani makes sure of it." He removed another and wiped his face. "Seems that all I do lately is cry my eyes out. Guess that's to be expected, though. I mean, you don't lose the best part of yourself, your friend for over fifteen Turns, and get over it in a day. Or even a month."

"How do you do it?"

"I take it one day at a time. Some days are better than others. Rani and my kids help a lot. And so does your father. He was the one who made me see how selfish I was being, acting like I was the only person in the world who was suffering over Nereth's death. He woke me up, made me remember that there were people who still needed me here. Like my family." Devin grinned reminiscently. "He was right, even though it took a smack across the face to get me to admit it."

"Dad hit you? For real?"

"Cracked me a good one," Devin said ruefully. "Don't look so shocked, Rilla. He knew what he was doing. I needed a good slap to bring me back to myself. I was drowning in self-pity and guilt. Yeah, I blamed myself too. Until I realized what I just told you. It helped a bit, getting rid of that burden of guilt." He eyed her sternly. "You don't still feel guilty now, do you? Because I'll slap you till your ears ring if I have to. You don't have time to wallow in guilt, you've got too many other dragons who need you."

"But I haven't wanted to treat a dragon since Nereth died," she began.

"That's what R'lan told me. That's when I thought it'd do you good to talk to me. Nobody loved that dragon more than I did, Aurilla. But he's gone, and you have to let him go. Don't grieve for me, for now I'm at peace, he said. I think it's time we took his advice. Nereth admired you greatly, said you were the best healer he'd ever known. He wouldn't want you to give up doing what you do best because of him."

"He really said that?"

"I swear by the Egg. Now are you going to take his advice or not?"

Slowly, Aurilla nodded. "I will. And in that way I'll honor his memory best. By saving as many dragons as I can."

Devin clapped her heartily on the back. "Glad to hear it. Welcome back, Aurilla Dragonhealer."

Aurilla smiled up at him, the first real smile she'd had since Nereth's death.

_Well, it's about time!_Amrianth sent. _I thought I was going to have to bite some sense back into you._

For some reason that comment sent her rider and Devin into gales of laughter. Amrianth shook her delicate head in puzzlement. She loved her rider deeply, but sometimes there was just no understanding humans. Not that it really mattered. Aurilla was happy again and that was what counted.

Smiling, Aurilla and Devin walked back towards R'lan's office. Devin wanted company and she, well, she had dragons to heal.

**_This was where my original short story ended, however if anyone would like to see additional chapters or a sequel, please let me know. _**


End file.
